I'm a country girl at heart. Not in the' Honey Boo Boo' kind of way,
but in the 'God's Country' kind of way.
This, the view from my kitchen window, is what I like to call "nature's medicine." When I come limping home at the end of a long commute and a frenzied workday, I fill a medium-sized bucket with Mateus and look out at this vista. And within seconds, I can feel the singed and shredded tatters of my soul starting to heal. The front of my home looks out onto one of the busiest streets in Brampton, but when you look out back onto pure greenspace, you can trick yourself into believing you're in the Muskokas. Or Algonquin Park. Or anywhere lush and verdant and completely spiritual. That is the power of nature. That is why I could never live in the heart of downtown Toronto, which is where well-meaning friends frequently tell me I should be living. I once visited a friend in the heart-wrenchingly beautiful mountain village of Watt Town, Jamaica (population 20; 220 if you count the goats), and I thought, "I want to live here!" I opted for this place instead. I think I made the right choice.
Now if only I could grow an ackee tree down there . . .
Editor's note: She's a bit of a whiner, this one, but I happen to know that she actually LOVES her job, despite and probably because of the long and frenzied days. She loves the work. She loves the people. She loves the intellectual stimulation. But most of all, she loves that it pays enough to cover her rather daunting liquor bills and the mortgage she has to pay to be able to come home and look at this gorgeous view.